


The night sky seems smaller, now

by sweaterwearer04



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Hugs, not ship. not ship. not ship.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29876607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweaterwearer04/pseuds/sweaterwearer04
Summary: Sam finds Tommy alive in prison and doesn't want to let him leave his sight again. The two end up camping on Tommy's front lawn. Lots of feelings in this one.
Relationships: Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit
Comments: 5
Kudos: 143





	1. Chapter 1

Sam had started out his day solemnly ascribing himself to the task of giving Dream his rations in prison-- even though beating Tommy to death was, by definition, completely fucked, Sam didn’t particularly feel like committing any war crimes, so feeding the masked man was an unfortunate must-- but when the curtain of lava suspended itself, Sam's eyes were immediately drawn to a pair of striking red t-shirt sleeves, to his complete and utter disbelief.

Tommy was uncharacteristically somber in response to Sam’s arrival, causing the man to question if perhaps he was seeing a ghost. However, after apprehensively grasping one of the boy’s shoulders, verifying the reality of his re-existence, Sam was overcome with the desire to hug him, and did so accordingly. 

“Sam,” Tommy protested, weakly attempting to wriggle out of Sam’s grasp. The latter hugged even harder and Tommy gave up, although he didn’t reciprocate. 

A few moments of silence passed before Dream, who Sam had all but forgotten about, cleared his throat and said, “I guess this means you’re leaving me, Tommy.”

Tommy, whose back was turned to the killer, tensed up, but didn’t say anything. Sam let go and coolly guided him with his arm until the boy was positioned safely behind him. He had so many questions, but he already had a strong feeling that Dream wasn’t going to be much help in quelling his curiosity. “Is it even worth my time asking you to explain?” 

His prisoner simply laughed. Tommy moved a little bit closer to Sam. “Probably not,” Dream admitted gleefully, making Sam’s blood simmer. Whatever had happened, Tommy was looking worse for the wear. Questioning Dream could wait.

Sam left the potatoes he had brought and guided Tommy onto the platform. When the lava at last returned to its rightful place, the boy’s shoulders visibly dropped. “Well,” he began, clapping his hands together, “I guess I’d better get going.”

“You guess you’d better-- Tommy,” Sam edged out, “you were dead.”

“Sam, people come back to life here all of the time,” Tommy maintained, with a tone that implied a _“duh” _at the end of his statement.__

____

____

“Not more than twice. Never more than twice. Everyone knows that. Quit the bullshit, Tommy.”

“You know what,” Tommy argued, the energy in his voice a clear facade in retrospect to the dark circles under his eyes, “I don’t feel like I owe you an explanation. Mememememe-- that’s what you sound like-- I mean, come on, man, I’m here now, alright? Aren’t you glad? Well, probably not--” The next few words were lost as his voice briefly lowered to a mumble-- “Just let me go home, alright?” A few moments of silence ensued. “It’s been a while.”

Sam let out a long puff of breath. He felt conflicted. He knew that in order to maintain the highest level of security possible, he shouldn’t let Tommy out of the prison before he had every detail of exactly what had happened. On the other hand, maybe getting Tommy out of here would make it easier to get that information. Also, it was hard to maintain his ironlike warden’s will when Tommy looked so helpless. 

“Just promise me one thing, Tommy.” Tommy looked up at him. “Promise me that Dream didn’t win you over. Promise me you aren’t on his side.”

Tommy reacted with authentic insultedness, sputtering out exclamations. “You--! Sam, that man is a sick, slimy, bastard. He’s the devil. I would never-- you-- ohoho--” He paused before resoluting, “I would rather die than side with Dream,” with a sense of finality that Sam just couldn’t dispute.

“Okay, Tommy. Okay.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m not so sure why you felt the need to walk this far with me, big man,” Tommy said to Sam, clasping his hands together as the two of them took the wooden path to Tommy’s hill home, “but we’re almost here, so I guess I’ll be seeing you, then.”

“Tommy, I’m not sure that I’m ready to let you out of my sight. You still haven’t told me what on earth happened in there.” Sam, who had left his foreboding gasmask back at the prison, spoke deliberately, trying to meet Tommy’s eyes, but the other wasn’t having it, choosing instead to focus his gaze on the planks of path prime. 

“Listen, Sam. You--” Tommy abruptly halted and Sam soon saw why. 

Over the course of the week that had passed since Tommy’s death, his home had been turned into what was essentially a memorial. A profusion of flowers, chosen to match Tommy’s typical outfit, flooded the front lawn, completely masking the grass beneath in some areas. The sun had just begun to set, and golden hour consequently rested its attractive hue on the landscape, heightening the beauty of it all.

Several moments passed before Sam spoke. “Tommy, I don’t feel right, leaving you like this.” Tommy didn’t reply, expressionlessly taking in the flora. “I won’t make you talk right away, but please try to understand. The last time I let you out of my sight, you…” He didn’t finish the sentence. 

Tommy cranked his neck backwards, crossed his arms, and took a deep breath. When he spoke, this time, his voice sounded far more genuine. “Well, I can’t exactly say I have a guest room, Sam, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”

Sam didn’t immediately reply. It was shockingly nice outside-- not too hot, not too cold. The sky was completely clear, and the ground was dry enough, as well. He scratched the back of his head, unsure how Tommy would respond to the idea that popped into his head in that moment, but he figured he had nothing to lose, so he suggested, “What if we slept out here?”

For a millisecond, Tommy looked as though he was going to heckle Sam in response and promptly shut down his proposal, but after thinking about it a second, his demeanor relaxed and he said, “Sure, why not?”, much to Sam’s surprise.


	3. Chapter 3

The two decided to go tentless, opting instead to locate a couple of sleeping bags in Tommy’s house that he had used back in the days of Pogtopia. Warm torchlight bathed the inside of his oak-laden storage room. Tommy busied himself with rummaging through his disorganized chests as Sam held them open for him.

“Don’t you want to let them know that you’re okay?”, Sam asked, who had been wary of Tubbo’s mental state in particular since it had happened.

Tommy, his head barely visible, replied, “Sounds like a lot of excitement, big man, and I’ll admit, I’m tired.” He triumphantly emerged from the chest with the sleeping bags he had been looking for, and added, “Besides, I’ve been dead to them for, what, a week? What’s one more day?” He smiled crookedly. 

Sam could tell that Tommy was aware of how sad what he just said had sounded, but he wasn’t going to point it out. He definitely understood Tommy’s point, though. “Excitement” was one fairly modest word for the chaos that was going to ripple throughout the server when news of Tommy’s being alive made its way around. For now, Sam agreed, it was more important to get a decent night’s sleep. He couldn’t imagine that Tommy had been afforded that when in close proximity to Dream.

“Right,” Sam eventually said. 

“Let’s go,” Tommy said as he handed Sam a sleeping bag and started to walk towards the exit, seeming eager to get back out into the open. 

“Right.” Sam couldn’t help but feel that he should be doing more to provide Tommy with some sort of comfort, but he felt helpless to do so when he still had no clue what had happened. Tommy being alive still seemed like some sort of fever dream-- Sam was afraid that if he blinked at just the wrong moment, the kid would just fade away. 

Tommy snapped him back into reality with an uncomfortable “Ahem.” Without realizing it, Sam once again had taken ahold of Tommy’s arm, preventing the boy from getting through the door. Sam let go with a quick apology. 

“It’s alright,” Tommy returned, before making his exit, leaving Sam to ponder alone a moment.

This all felt so wrong. There was no way that Tommy hadn’t been through some serious shit in that prison cell, death aside. Alone, with Dream, for nine days, Sam had left the kid there before his death. And now they were having-- what?-- a sleepover, for gods sake--

Where was Tommy?

Sam’s heart rate jumped substantially as he quickly made his way outside, only reducing to normal when he saw Tommy already situated in his sleeping bag, arms hung outside and folded over his chest. He did little to acknowledge Sam’s presence, looking into the night sky with the same inscrutability with which he had regarded the flowers that he was now laying amongst. 

Sam, stood in the doorway still, turned his chin up, following Tommy’s gaze until his eyes rested on the night sky. It really was a gorgeous night, each star in the sky ringing clear through the dark. Even though it was beautiful, however, Sam was somewhat taken aback by Tommy’s newfound appreciation for nature. It wasn’t a trait that he had previously encountered in the boy.

He allowed himself to smile serenely a bit, moving towards Tommy and placing his sleeping bag parallel to the other. After removing his shoes and getting inside, he addressed Tommy, looking up at the stars himself. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Really?” 

“Of course, Tommy.” Sam decided to ignore the pang of pity that struck him with that simple, one-word question. “I…” a few seconds of comfortable silence passed as he pieced together exactly what to say. “I want to help you, but I can’t do that without knowing what you went through. I know that you’re tired, though, so I won’t bug you about it any more.” He thought a couple of moments more. “Just know that the reason I want to know so badly comes from a place of love.” The phrasing of it wasn’t perfect, but he felt like he got the point across well enough. 

With that, Sam was content to let the both of them sleep. It had been a long two weeks-- 9 days of frantically trying to find the source of a security breach, and 5 days of mourning the death of the boy now laying by his side (with said security breach eating at his mind on top of it all). 

Just as he was about to fall asleep, however, Tommy’s quiet voice cut through the night air. “Time worked differently.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Time worked differently.”

Sam’s eyes popped open, but he didn’t turn to Tommy. “What?”

“In the afterlife.”

Sam had never been one to dwell on the idea of life after death, but he had always thought that it was quite possible that an afterlife of some kind existed, so it wasn’t the affirmation of one that unsettled him the most.

“What do you mean?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

“I was dead for two days, right?”

It had been 5 days since Sam had last visited Dream, so he didn’t actually know how long Tommy was dead, but the question was evidently rhetorical, as Tommy moved on without answer.

“It was more like 3 months, I think, down-- up there-- whatever.” Tommy laughed wistfully, and out of the corner of his vision, Sam saw him press the palms of his hands into his closed eyes as if to relieve a headache. 

Sam said nothing, waiting for Tommy to offer up more information, which he soon did,

“I couldn’t feel, or see, or eat, or sleep, but Schlatt was there. And MD. And, well,” he gulped, “Wilbur.” He pulled his arms back around his torso and hugged himself closely. “Wilbur,” he said again, this time with a little more confidence. “And it was-- it was horrible. It was-- it w--” Short breaths began to interrupt his speech with increasing frequency. “It w--” He tried once more before giving up and abruptly rising into a sitting position, using one arm to support his weight from behind and the other to wipe his eyes, a pathetic silhouette in the starlight. 

Sam quickly sat up, too, tilting his head in worry and leaning in slightly to better gauge the situation. Tommy was crying quietly, embarrassedly hiding his eyes with his lanky forearm, fist balled tightly. He had completely lost hope of getting out any more words about it, as his lips, although they were pressed together thinly, were quivering. He sniffed.

Maybe it was selfish of Sam to try another hug when the first hadn’t been returned, but he was at a loss of words and it was all he could find it in himself to do. This time, however, when Sam placed a tentative arm around Tommy, the boy completely melted into Sam, holding the broader man tightly and sobbing into his green sweatshirt. 

“You were there, with them, for so long…” Sam had hardly begun to think about what that meant for the length of Wilbur’s otherworldly stay, but it didn’t matter right now. For three months, at least, Tommy had been forced to take whatever maniacal bullshit Wilbur and Schlatt could spew at him.

Tommy’s crying became more audible in response and he nodded woefully into the folds of Sam’s sweatshirt. 

“Dying… _coming back _… did it… hurt?” Still, Sam had no idea how Tommy had returned, but it seemed so unnatural, there was no way it couldn’t be painful.__

__Tommy nodded again, more vigorously, and Sam’s heart ached for him. He held the lanky boy tighter, rubbing circles into his shoulder blade with his thumb. “You’re okay, now. You’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”_ _

__“Thanks, Sam,” Tommy said in between sniffles. His crying was starting to die down a bit._ _

__After at least twenty minutes, Tommy hesitantly broke away from Sam and slowly tucked himself back into his sleeping bag. The other did the same, and no words escaped either of them for the rest of the night. However, Sam did hear some shuffling around before he felt Tommy’s forehead gently press against his arm. Less than a minute later, the boy’s snores could be heard._ _

__Sam took a shaky breath. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. He could only assume that it was by Dream’s hand that Tommy was alive. He wasn’t sure exactly what that meant. He suspected that things were going to get extremely chaotic once more people knew of Tommy’s reincarnation. There would be celebration from many, but there would most likely also be disturbance from the Eggpire._ _

__Even though he was unsure of all these things, though, Sam knew for a fact that the boy softly breathing into his side was real and he was _alive _. And as he drifted off, the sweet scent of flowers lulling him into slumber, Sam knew that somehow, it would all be okay in the end.___ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! *hands you tommy & sam content* *hands you tommy & sam content* *hands you tommy & sam content* *hands you tommy & sam content* This story will inevitably become plot-irrelevant but I truly could not care less. If you liked it, please comment, it makes my day! :)


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